Well....

Always asking myself if I can find it. Just once. And hold on to it.

There has to be something inherently wrong me. Fuck I hate this feeling. Each and every time I reach and my hands are pushed away, a little piece of me shuts off, never to come back on again.

Tiny pieces of me all over. Cut and dried, ashes and dust, blood and wind and there's not much left inside. So tired of all the self-doubt and feeling worthless.

I hate when the darkness starts creeping in again. Fuck.